Today I am taking part on the Blog Tour of Coco Pinchard, the Consequences of Love and Sex by Robert Bryndza. I am very pleased to welcome him on my blog. Also, don't miss the giveaway of 3 x signed copies of Coco Pinchard, The Consequences of Love and Sex plus Coco Pinchard bookmarks.Robert your turn:

Hi and thanks for welcoming me to your blog as part of the Coco Pinchard, The Consequences of Love and Sex blog tour!

For today’s stop I’d like to share with you an extract from the book, where Coco Pinchard is overcome with lust for her husband Adam, the only problem being is that she is in her 31st week of the pregnancy, and huge…

Monday 4th June

Adam bought me a long curved pregnancy pillow, and regained custody of his own pillows.

We’ve been sleeping beautifully the past few nights. For the first time in ages I feel really great. Pregnant and big, but great. I was having a shower this morning, and watching Adam through the glass cubicle when I suddenly felt incredibly, horny.

He had a towel round his waist and had just finished shaving. I watched his biceps shift and flex as he reached into the sink to scoop up water, my eyes travelled along his muscular back, his broad shoulders tapering down to a thin waist, and the curve of his rump under the taut material of his white towel. He dried his face, and turned round. A little water ran down his neck and over his pecs. He walked out of the bathroom giving me a wink on the way.

I realised I felt more horny than I ever have before. I rinsed off the last of the soap, stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a big towel.

Adam was in the bedroom, already dressed in tight black jeans and doing up the last buttons on his work shirt, when I launched myself on him. I kissed him furiously. He responded, surprised.

‘Make love to me, now,’ I said and started to undo his belt buckle. He pulled away.

‘Hey, what about the baby?’

‘What about the baby?’

‘Should we be doing it?’ he ran his hand softly over my huge bump. I carried on unbuckling his trousers.

‘Whoa whoa whoa, Coco, I’m serious. You’re in week thirty-one.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said finally getting his belt undone and yanking his jeans down exposing his hairy footballers legs.

‘How do you know it’s fine?’

‘It says so in all the books.’

‘You haven’t read any of the books, you lobbed one at a pot plant.’

I started to unbutton his shirt, got fed up and ripped it open. Buttons flew off, a couple pinging against the bedside lamp.

‘I want you,’ I growled.

‘Coco, I don’t think we should.’

‘Well your head might say one thing, but below the belt you seem much more keen.’ I hooked my hand under the waistband of his briefs and went to slide them down.

‘No! I’m serious, what if there is a reason that you shouldn’t have sex? Didn’t they say you shouldn’t do anything strenuous?’

‘Oh my God say that word again!’

‘Strenuous.’

‘Oh! I’ll go on all fours, and you can give it to me strenuously.’ I pulled his briefs down. His penis was really hard and it sprang up and slapped against his belly button.

‘Ow!’

‘Don’t be a baby!’ I said. I kneeled on the bed and tried to arrange myself. He started to soften.

‘No no no no no!’ I said, pulling at it as if it were a bicycle pump and I’d had to stop with a flat tyre during the Tour de France.’

‘Adam, I could hump a tree right now. I can’t drink, or smoke, or eat any of the things I love. I can’t dye my hair. You are having sex with me whether you like it or not.’

‘But that’s…’

‘That’s called being a supportive husband. Other women ask their husbands to put up shelves or mow the lawn. All I want is a damn good seeing too! I think you’ve got it very easy.’

‘Ouch Ow! Stop Coco,’ he said jumping back. I took my hand away.

‘Adam, please. I want you so badly… I’ve heard it’s a legitimate pregnancy symptom. Clinical horniness. What if I spoke to midwife Justine? Would you be happier?’

‘Yes,’ he said relieved and went to pick up his jeans.

I grabbed my phone off the bedside table and began scrolling through.

‘What? Now? You’re going to ask her now?’

‘She said to phone if I had any questions.’ I found her number. Midwife Justine answered after two rings. I put her on speakerphone. We could hear traffic in the background.

‘Hello. It’s Coco Pinchard,’ I said. ‘I want to know if we can have sex?’

‘Hello, Mrs Pinchard?’

‘Not you and me, obviously…’ I added.

‘No, no I didn’t think that,’ she said. ‘It’s just that this is my emergency line. Is this an emergency?’

Adam looked at me and shook his head.

‘I’m experiencing clinical horniness…’ I said.

‘I’m not sure that’s an emergency though, Mrs Pinchard, I must impress on you that the NHS is a free resource but it shouldn’t be abused.’

‘I just want to know if I can safely have sex in my thirty first week. Adam is worried he might poke the baby… I mean he’s not that long… well he is long, no complaints there.’

I looked at Adam who had his head in his hands.

‘Mrs Pinchard. It’s perfectly fine for you both to engage in sexual intercourse. Just make sure you are well supported, and take it slow. You can even do your pelvic floor exercises when Adam is inside you.’

‘Adam is here,’ I said. ‘I’ve got you on speakerphone.’

I mouthed say hello to Adam.

‘Hello,’ said Adam awkwardly.

‘Morning, Adam. Think of your penis like a divining rod. When you penetrate Coco, you’ll feel her doing her pelvic floor exercises, it will be like a squeezing sensation… This will help her enormously with any incontinence issues. Did she tell you she did a little wee-wee in my office?’

‘Yes,’ cringed Adam.

‘Both of you must tell me how it goes, as I said I’m still rather new to all this. In fact I sometimes forget I’m a midwife! I made a curry last night and sliced a pile of chillies, forgetting that I have to do a membrane sweep this morning…’

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine, and thanks,’ I said. I pressed end call and climbed on the bed.

‘That was the most unsexy conversation, ever,’ said Adam. ‘Coco, I love you but I don’t know if I can…’

‘Adam. Do me from behind. Now!’ I ordered.

Men are simple creatures, and these words seemed to do the trick. He managed it twice and was rather late for work.

Blurb: Since Coco Pinchard found first husband Daniel in bed with another woman, she hasn’t just picked up the pieces: she’s now a best-selling author married to her hunky soul-mate Adam. She feels stronger and wiser and surely the second time round she’ll have learnt from her mistakes?

But things aren’t going quite according to plan... Adam has lost his job, Coco’s grown-up son Rosencrantz seems to have derailed his life in spectacular fashion, and ex-mother-in-law Ethel keeps letting herself into the house thanks to an endless supply of spare keys. When literary agent Angie takes on Coco’s arch rival, the indomitable Regina Battenberg, it looks as though things can’t get any worse. And then Coco discovers she’s pregnant; at 44.

Can she really go through it all again? Sleepless nights, stretch marks on top of stretch marks, and poo as a normal topic of conversation?

The third and final book in Robert Bryndza’s bestselling series is a hilarious diary with Coco’s trademark wit and honesty, tracing the raging hormones and extraordinary twists that take her to motherhood for the second time.

*Coco Pinchard, The Consequences of Love and Sex can be read as a stand-alone*

Today I am very pleased to welcome Annie Lyons on my blog as part of the Not Quite Perfect Blog Tour to celebrate that it is now available in paperback.So Annie, it's your turn to talk:

As the debate about printed versus digital
books rumbles on, I feel compelled to wade in and offer the following shocking
opinion: I like digital books.

There. I’ve said it.

But before you fetch your pitchfork,
flaming torch and a dozen assorted librarians to try to talk me round, let me
offer another shocking revelation: I like printed books too.

I know. I’m putting myself out on a limb
the like of which has not been seen since we were forced to choose between Ed
and David Miliband. (Personally I’ve always liked the Steve Miller Band)

But I’m saying it, people. I’m putting
myself right in the middle of the road and daring you to run me over with a
heavily laden book trolley. And I’m going to tell you why, whether you want me
to or not.

Firstly, like many of you, I am a
bibliophile. Since my mum showed me the first page of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, laughing at my impressive ‘pop’ noises
and encouraging me to put my fingers in the beautifully reinforced holey pages,
I’ve been in love with books. In my house it goes ‘children, books, coffee,
husband,’ (kidding, I like him more than coffee). I’ve spent my life enjoying
the feel, touch and smell of books. Many of them are pure art, their covers
good enough to grace the walls of any gallery. When I worked as a bookseller I
became something of a book-sniffer (the new books smell almost as good as the
old ones) and the feel of embossed type on a smooth matt cover is like stroking
cashmere.

I know this. You know this. Books furnish a
room and their content furnishes your soul. My husband has a dog-eared copy of Captain Corelli’s Mandolin that got him
out of a potentially life-endangering moment in India. It sits on our
book-shelf; a constant reminder to me of how bloody lucky I am that he got home
and I feel a fondness towards that book because of it. Maybe I’m romanticising
this but that’s what you do with books don’t you? I can remember where I was
when I read all of my favourite books; Ali’s Smith’s Hotel World on honeymoon, Germinal
on a train travelling back from Cornwall, The
Stone Diaries during a mobile-home holiday in France whilst I prayed for my
nine month old son to sleep for just a little bit longer. So printed books
rock, they roll and they have to exist forever. End of.

And so to digital books. My e-Reader is
dull. Its cover looks like a wallet. It smells of bananas because it lives next
to the fruit bowl and the type looks uninspiring against a flat grey screen. At
first I didn’t like the page-flick buttons or knowing that I was so many
percent through a book (wrong I tell you). I still don’t know how to work it
properly because I am essentially too lazy to read a manual so I have to stay
on the page I’m reading for fear of losing my place. Most of all, I don’t like
it because I suspect it knows more than I do and no-one likes a clever-clogs.

However, despite being a romantic, I am
also a realist and a pragmatist. I am only just forty and therefore not ready
to start calling the remote control ‘the doobrey’ and asking my children to record
television programmes for me. Added to this, I am an author and I need to get
with the programme. And the programme demands that you sit up and take notice
of the digital age. Having now read a number of books on my e-Reader and used
it to check my own manuscript, I have to say it’s very handy. I have grudgingly
got used to the flicky buttons and as for the percentage thing, well it’s just
maths, isn’t it? Also, I like the fact that you can increase the font size and
if that means my eighty-year-old mother can read my books, well then it’s all
right by me. Come in Mrs e-Reader, we will make space at our table for you.

There is also another reason why I like a
digital book. If Not Quite Perfect
had been initially published in print form, it would have very likelysunk without a trace. If it had been lucky enough to
make it onto a retailer’s shelf, it would have been fighting for attention
alongside the big boys. And it would have lost. It would have appeared in a
handful of stores and been returned to a warehouse for remaindering or worse,
(don’t say it) pulping.

Instead my virtual book appeared in a shop
window big enough to be seen from outer space and its perfect cover (God bless
the Carina design team), keen price and favourable reviews propelled it to
number 6 in the Kindle bestsellers last year. I know. A brand new book from a
brand new author hanging out with the super-stars. That’s not supposed to
happen, is it? And it was the digital factor that enabled this. It gave my book
space and positioning and yes, it’s cheaper than a latte but a top ten
bestseller is a top ten bestseller.

Incidentally, price is an issue in the
digital world and the concern that books are being de-valued is a very real
one. Books that writers have spent many years crafting being sold for very
little is, of course, a huge concern. But you don’t perfect these things
overnight and low prices means higher sales. ‘Swings and roundabouts’ seems like a salient
cliché at this point.

The story doesn’t end here though. It has
an even happier ending. As a result of its eBook success last year, Not Quite Perfect is going into print this
year. The digital-first ‘icing on the cake’ has brought me a ‘cherry on the top’
printed book. Hoorah and thank you eBooks.

And so my friends, I invite you to join me
in liking both digital and printed stories. If you love books, you can love
them in a multitude of forms; furnish your home and your mind with the really
gorgeous ones, the ones that made you see the world differently and created a
cherished memory. Go to the library, your local book-shop, your supermarket,
your school book-fair and buy those beauties. But if there are books you want
to try but not necessarily keep or if you need bigger type or if you just like
the smell of bananas, get an e-Reader and go online. It’s not the format but
the story that counts. It’s all reading.
It’s all books. It’s all food for the soul.

Thank you so much Annie for stoping by and sharing your love for books, both print and ebooks. I totally agree with you, we bookworms love the smell of a new book, love holding it and turn its pages but without our beloved ebooks we couldn't enjoy some great stories.

If you haven't read the sensational Not Quiet Perfect yet, here is a bit more information about this fantastic best seller:

Sometimes having it all isn’t enough…

Emma has everything she’s ever wanted. Her boyfriend’s just proposed and her career has finally taken off. And so what if her latest client just happens to be downright gorgeous? She’s getting married. Isn’t she?

Rachel’s married with 2.4 children (well, actually, 3) and life is all about trying to leave the house in a non-stained top. Once it was about skinny cappuccinos, cocktails and dynamic ad agency meetings. She wants her old life back, but can it ever be the same?

A sparkling, funny tale of two sisters and how often you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

Blurb: When Tate Collins meets airline pilot Miles Archer, she knows it isn’t love at first sight. They wouldn’t even go so far as to consider themselves friends. The only thing Tate and Miles have in common is an undeniable mutual attraction. Once their desires are out in the open, they realize they have the perfect set-up. He doesn’t want love, she doesn’t have time for love, so that just leaves the sex. Their arrangement could be surprisingly seamless, as long as Tate can stick to the only two rules Miles has for her.

Never ask about the past.

Don’t expect a future.

They think they can handle it, but realize almost immediately they can’t handle it at all.

Hearts get infiltrated.

Promises get broken.

Rules get shattered.

Love gets ugly.

First of all I'd like to thank the girls of The Hot Bed for sending me this amazing book to review.

Review: This book should come with a warning because it is completely addictive. Once you enter Tate and Miles' world, there is no going back. Tate is a really strong character, she knows what she wants in life: a career. No time for relationships, no time for love. But when Miles appears at her doorstep (actually, his brother's, because she's moving in with him) drunk and hurting for a girl named Rachel, she can't deny her attraction, she just wants to make him feel better. So when Miles, all sobered up, lands eyes on her, there's no denial of the mutual attraction, they are game.

They start this kind of friends with benefits relationship, only they are not friends, they don't talk about the past nor the future, at least he doesn't. She just tries not to fall in love with him. But their attraction turns into something more, even if he is not ready to admit it. And you just want to keep reading to know what damaged him so much and what you can do (I mean... Tate, what Tate can do) to stop him from hurting.

The book is written from both perspectives, Tate narrates the present and Miles the past. Miles' chapters are really intense, his relationship with Rachel, when they were teens, was pure love. And then the unexpected happened and he turned into this bold version of him that is no able to love. It broke me.

This is my first Colleen book and I cannot believe that. I am totally checking more of her books. Ugly Love is so utterly compelling, she creates a love story so intense, so pure. And so sexy. This is a book you don't want to miss, so pre-order it now, it goes out the 5th of August.

Rating:

12:59

As some of you might know, if you are following me on Twitter, I spent the last month in the USA. Given that I've been working as a teacher, I have my summers free so 3 years ago I decided to get involved with an agency that organizes trips in English speakings countries for young students to go and improve their English. My job is to go with them and take care of them, basicly make sure that they're having a good time. We all stay with families and after being in London the first year and in NYC (in Brooklyn) the second, this year I ended up in Upstate New York. This year was a bit different than the previous ones because it was an immersion program so the kids had to spend their time with their families and the whole group would meet only once or twice for week for a trip or activity.

I wanted to share with you some of my experiences and memories of this month. I'll have to admit that this year was difficult for some kids at first but this experience was amazing. I had a great time with my family, the Fagnani. They took me to a lot of fab places and Carmen, the daughter, and me had a shared love for books so she showed me some great book stores!

Cool Book Stores:

I went with the group to Saratoga Springs and discovered this amazing second hand book store where I got this cute edition of the first book of Narnia. Given that my sister is a huge fan of Narnia, that'll be a present for her.

Next cool book store was in Harvard University, in Boston. It was not actually a store, just this litte cute wood house where you could leave your books and take new ones. How cool is that? I didn't have any books with me, but I couldn't resist taking one home with me. Next time I go, I'll make sure to bring a book!

Also in Boston, we visited this outdoors second hand book store where you could get amazing books starting from one dollar. I got Moloka'i by Alan Brennert for one dolar! I had read really good things about it so I was very pleased! And the book store is amazing, they have some treasures inside too.

And finally, in New York City, I visited again the Strand Book Store. This amazing book store is one of the biggest I have ever seen and you can get lost there for hours discovering new books. As their motto says, this is the place Where Books Are Loved.

Other awesome experiences:
But this month wasn't only about books. I also had time to fly with a small plane, drive a four-wheeler, ride a horse, hike, visit amazing places, meet the Amish, shop and meet some amazing Americans!

Blurb: Another scintillating tale from the bestselling author of The Longest Holiday and Lucy in the Sky. Last year, Bronte left Sydney for a wedding in England, where she met newly single Alex. After a night of passion they parted ways, and Bronte returned to Australia.

Now working on a picture desk for a magazine in London, Bronte is about to meet her new colleague, who turns out to be all too familiar. Although awkward at first, as Alex is now engaged to the girl he was on a break from when they met, they soon become friends.

But as the two get closer, and the wedding day looms, it is clear that Alex and Bronte have unfinished business.

A charming bittersweet novel from the author of The Longest Holiday.

Praise for Paige Toon's previous titles:

'We devoured this in one sitting, relaxing on a sun-lounger - and our, er, tireless research revealed that it's the perfect beach read' Cosmopolitan

'Fun, summery, chick-lit with bite - if you want a bit of escapism, this is perfect' Cosmopolitan

'It's fresh, incredibly confident, with a very strong cast and sense of place. This wonderful page-turner kept me guessing right until the end' Marian Keyes

Review: Since I first discovered Paige Toon early this year, she has quickly become one of my favourite authors. Her stories always have something that make them special and with Thirteen Weddings she didn't disappoint. I devoured the book in one sitting (during a flight from NY to Madrid, when I should have been sleeping, but it was totally worth it).

Bronte is a very special girl, after having a very difficult childhood, she doesn't believe in marriage and even less in God, funny that her photography passion leads her to a job as a wedding photographer assistant. After overcoming her fears of being in a church, she does a really good job so she starts helping Rachel, the photographer, regularly. I loved how she talked about photography, how she described what she saw through the lens, and how she tried to catch the perfect moment.

And then there's Alex, funny, smart and beautiful. After sharing a very special night and thinking they would never see each other again, they end up working together. Their attraction is palpable through the book but he is engaged and decided to go through with it. I instantly warmed to him and wanted things to work for them. And to make things even more interesting there's Lachie, the attractive Australian wedding singer who is backpacking around Europe. He is younger and a player but you can see that he has deep feelings for Bronte. At first, I didn't like him, but he slowly won a place in my heart too.

This love triangle will have you turning page after page to know more. You will love them, hate them, laugh with them and cry with them. I have to say that when I finished I was not sure I liked the ending but having had a couple of days to think about it, I think Bronte made the right decision and I'm sure she'll be happy, I hope we'll hear something about her soon. That's another think that make Paige's novels so special, there are always references to previous novels, in this case we heart about Ben and Lily and also about Laura.

Rating:

14:02

Samantha Tonge, author of Doubting Abbey, is publishing her new book, From Paris With Love, in two days. So I'm very pleased to show you a little teaser today. If you can't wait till the 24th, here is Chapter 1.

Blurb: Every girl dreams of hearing those four magical words Will you marry me? But no-one tells you what’s supposed to happen next…

Fun-loving Gemma Goodwin knows she should be revelling in her happy-ever-after. Except when her boyfriend Lord Edward popped the question, after a whirlwind romance, although she didn’t say no….she didn’t exactly say yes either!

A month-long cookery course in Paris could be just the place to make sure her heart and her head are on the same page… And however disenchanted with romance Gemma is feeling, the City of Love has plenty to keep her busy; the champagne is decadently quaffable, the croissants almost too delicious, and shopping is a national past-time! In fact, everything in Paris makes her want to say Je t’aime… Except Edward!

But whilst Paris might offer plenty of distractions from wedding planning – including her new friends, mysterious Joe and hot French rockstar Blade - there’s no reason she couldn’t just try one or two couture dresses is there? Just for fun…

CHAPTER ONE

In my gorgeous new dress and earrings borrowed from Abbey, I walked as elegantly as possible, down the aisle. I wore a pale blue set of underwear – apparently matching bras and knickers are the height of sophistication – and my mother’s old gold watch, for good luck. Sashaying now, I smiled at people to my left, and then my right. Ahead, Edward caught my eye and winked. Stomach tingling, I stopped by his side and stared at the lusciousness that was Lord Edward Croxley. *Sigh*. I grinned at the vicar. Today, Friday the first of February, was possibly one of the happiest of my life.

‘Move out the way, will yer?’ boomed a voice from behind. Talk about rude! I fought the urge to indicate with two fingers, in a “W” shape for “Whatever”, that I’d only be a couple of seconds. I slipped off my jacket and dropped sideways, into my seat, next to my guy. The loud man pushed past, towards the loo. Still standing, unsteadily, the vicar burped and looked out of the window. Truth be told, he was a plumber called Jim and in fancy dress for a stag weekend.

Despite all that something borrowed, something blue malarkey, this was no wedding, but a trip on an aeroplane. Squirming in my seat, I pulled down the short hem to my cherry red dress. Some of last year’s training that helped me pretend to be modest, aristocratic Abbey for two weeks had clearly stuck – thanks to my teacher, Lady Constance Woodfold (Lady C to me), and her crash course in how to act in a more refined way.

‘I can’t believe we’re only ten minutes from Paris!’ I said as the sign lit up for us to fasten our seatbelts.

Edward put away his travel guide and squeezed my hand. ‘What’s more exciting, Gemma – your first flight or the prospect of spending one month in the tremendous City of Light?’

I cocked my head, wanting to say neither – I was most looking forward to working in restaurant Chez Dubois for the whole of February and learning everything I could about French nosh. But that wasn’t a very romantic answer, considering he’d proposed only a short while ago, at Christmas – just moments after I’d decided to travel the world in order to learn how to become a chef.

You see, Edward had tipped thirty whereas I was still a couple of years off celebrating my twenty-fifth. Independent me, much as I loved him, just wasn’t sure whether to say “yes” and sign on the dotted marital line. So patient Edward was still waiting for my answer. I cleared my throat and fortunately, at that moment, the air stewardess came by, to check our belts. In fact she’d been mega attentive throughout our journey and suddenly blurted out:

‘You two were great on Million Dollar Mansion last year…’ Her cheeks tinged pink. ‘I’ve been longing to say that since we left Gatwick. It’s the best reality show ever and I’m so glad your side won.’

‘You were excellent, passing yourself off as your classy best friend, Abigail Croxley,’ she said to me and giggled. ‘Your antics were a real hoot.’

Even though I’d had the same conversation a thousand times since being on telly last September, I never got bored of chatting to the show’s fans. Not even when people exclaimed how “common” – whatever that meant – I looked, away from the camera, nor when women ogled Edward, who looked even hotter in real life.

It would be strange in Paris, where no one knew us. Perhaps Edward and me could finally grab some “quality time” together. Jeez, just saying that made me sound about a hundred – I’d spent too much time living in his family home, musty old Applebridge Hall! It was the first time I’d been travelling without slathering myself in fake tan or packing my boob-enhancing chicken fillets. Don’t get me wrong, I still loved my short skirts and colourful nails but… Lady C’s training… All that stuff about moderation… Somehow bits of it had etched themselves permanently onto my brain.

‘Are you two on a romantic getaway?’ the stewardess continued, oblivious to the glares of the colleague in front of her, trying to pass with the drinks trolley.

I avoided Edward’s eye. Not that he’d made a fuss when I’d asked for more time to consider his proposal, but it was hard to stay strong. The soppy part of me melted at the sound of his very English voice – at the sight of his strong shoulders, that teasing mouth, those soulful eyes – and didn’t want to think rationally about my jet-setting career plans.

‘Um… Not really,’ I said, cheeks tingeing pink. ‘I’m here for a month, developing my cookery skills. One of the workmen renovating Applebridge Hall’s top floor heard about me longing to travel. He spoke to his daughter who works in France, in the catering business.’

‘It’s who you know, not what, don’t they say,’ said the air stewardess, nodding her head.

‘Too right! She passed on details of a bistro that needed reliable, temporary English-speaking staff to help out during February. Although there was some mix-up and we’ve ended up working at Chez Dubois, a different restaurant.’ I shrugged. ‘Anyway, a friend of hers lent us her flat as she’d just taken on a cruise ship job for a month and didn’t want it standing empty. Apparently she’d heard of Million Dollar Mansion and cos we’re “famous” – her words, not mine – trusted us not to trash her place.’

‘I’d love to live in Paris for more than an overnight stopover,’ said the stewardess, in a dreamy voice.

‘The restaurants over there are expecting business to boom due to a series of spring events to commemorate the First World War,’ chipped in Edward and ran a hand through his honey curls. ‘I believe Chez Dubois is one of the oldest in the area. It was built in the seventeenth century, originally as a café where men might drink and listen to the wit of visiting actors. Over the centuries it became the haunt for many famous writers, so understandably Gemma and I – both keen readers – are thrilled to work there.’

‘Aw, and you’re keeping Gemma company?’ said the air stewardess and gave a flirtatious giggle.

Honestly! How did Edward manage to turn most women to putty within minutes of talking to them?

He smiled. ‘Gem doesn’t need me to accompany her – she’s capable of making new friends anywhere on this earth. No, the magazine I write a weekly column for is interested in several pieces on the First World War commemorative events in England. I thought a take on the French perspective might also interest readers, so asked lovely Gemma if she’d mind me tagging along.’

How chuffed Edward had been when Country Aspirations magazine offered him the column, having been impressed with the success of his daily blog during Million Dollar Mansion. Since publishing his weekly pieces on the twenty-first century world from an aristocrat’s point of view, their sales figures had soared. The magazine’s stodgy readers particularly lapped up articles on Applebridge Hall’s renovation, high society events and the fine nosh we taught people to cook at the food academy we set up with the million dollars prize.

The air stewardess wished us luck and moved on, probably disappointed that we hadn’t announced we were eloping or on some sort of honeymoon. As the plane tilted its nose and got ready to land, I leant past Edward to look out of the aeroplane. He’d offered me the window seat, as it was my first time in the air, but I’d said no. Each peek out of the window gave me an excuse to cuddle up to my yummy man. Meringues of cloud parted to reveal sunshine. For a second the plane shook – talk about the ultimate rollercoaster ride, and one that would end at the coolest ever destination!

My heart felt like it would explode with sparks of joy as I relaxed back into my seat and held Edward’s hand tight. I glanced sideways at him and couldn’t wait to kiss his lips, to feel his breath on my neck, under the starry Parisian sky… A smile crossed my lips. If Auntie Jan knew how Edward still made me feel, she’d call me “a right soppy sausage”.

‘Have you worked out exactly where our flat is?’ I said, as the plane finally ground to a halt and we stood up to get our hand luggage. ‘If not, I’ll Google the address on your laptop.’ I patted his rucksack.

‘Done,’ said Edward as we stepped out of the aeroplane and followed the other passengers towards the luggage carousel. Once there, he took out the travel guide and pointed to an underground station, in the north of the capital. ‘As we thought, the flat is near Chez Dubois, in Montmartre – near the Sacre-Coeur.’

‘Ooh, close to that square full of artists that I’ve seen on the telly? Aren’t we the cultured ones?’

‘I believe it is excessively touristy nowadays, but yes, that’s the place.’ He leant forward and kissed me on the lips – an action which never failed to make my heart race, as if it only had a few beats left before giving out. ‘Oh, Gem, I can’t wait to show you my favourite Parisian haunts. When Mother brought me here, one school holiday, I thought it was the most wonderful place on earth. The view from the top of the Eiffel Tower is smashing – truly panoramic. And we visited the extraordinary Pompidou Centre and Père Lachaise, a magnificent cemetery where some of the greatest writers of all time are buried, like Oscar Wilde. The tombs are like nothing you’ve ever seen – even bigger than those on your favourite supernatural programme…’

I screwed up my forehead.

‘The one where high school students transform into werewolves or consume blood.’ He pulled a face.

‘Ah, the Vampire Diaries.’ AKA the greatest show on earth! And I wasn’t the only dedicated viewer at Applebridge Hall. Amazin’ cook, Kathleen, watched it too, under the guise of ironing in front of the telly. Proof that grey hairs and wrinkles don’t stop you appreciating hot men – well, bloodsuckers really, but still, what was a couple of sharp glinting teeth between friends?

Having said that, much as I liked watching lush vamps hang out amongst gravestones, I’d already selected more lively locations to visit during my stay here. For me, the French capital was all about wicked boutiques, awesome cafés and, of course, Disneyland Paris, dream destination to children of all ages – including forty-three year old Auntie Jan, who was Minnie Mouse’s number one fan.

Plus I could just imagine Edward and me sitting outside some fancy bar in the capital, sipping red wine, and eating slices of baguette with smelly cheese. We’d look all arty and refined, with a cluster of museum guides and shopping bags at my feet. All I’d need then was a beret and miniature poodle to make the fantasy complete. In the background, classy music would play – like that golden oldie about not regretting something or other... *Sigh*. I’d fallen in love with Paris already.

‘Pardon!’ mumbled a lady in a fur coat, who squeezed past us to get her bags.

‘Huh?’ I shrugged at Edward. ‘But I didn’t say anything.’

‘No, that means excuse me,’ said Edward as he studied the carousel.

Oh. Clearly my GCSE French was rustier than I thought. Mind you, I hadn’t forgotten everything and when the woman came back again, carrying a smart suitcase, and repeated the polite word, I said. ‘Au naturel,’ pleased to have remembered the phrase for “of course”.

The woman gave me a strange look and hurried on. Edward chuckled.

‘You just said “naked” to her,’ he whispered.

Really? Nah, he had to be wrong, even though he’d spent the last few weeks revising his French. Certain things from school lessons never left me – like the time I did an essay about me and Auntie Jan attempting to make homemade jam. Right healthy it was, and I wrote that we’d used no préservatifs. You should have seen the teacher’s face. Well, how was I supposed to know that was the French word for condoms? Cue, a fleeting moment of fame at school, as everyone thought I’d muddled up the words on purpose.

As the luggage went around on the conveyor belt, a man in a black suit and sunglasses stood on the other side of the carousel and stared my way. His light brown hair was styled army short. He had tanned skin, a strong jawline and chiselled cheekbones. All of a sudden he turned away and disappeared into the crowds. Perhaps Parisians might recognise us after all.

A fashionable woman struggled to retrieve her huge suitcase and Edward lunged forward, easily lifted it off the conveyor belt and bowed his head as she giggled and muttered her thanks in French. Yes, I was officially going out with one sexy, appealing hunk! Whistling, arm linked with my man, I eventually left the airport.

We pulled our suitcases on wheels, both of us carrying rucksacks on our backs. Once outside I took a deep breath, expecting to smell garlic or see strings of onions around people’s necks. This was France, right? Plus my first time abroad… But, disappointingly, everything looked much the same as back home, including the grubby pavement and grey clouds.

How could this be? I wanted glamour! The Exotic! Sophistication! Even the birds were the same, I noticed, as a couple of chubby pigeons ambled past. You’d think they‘d look all slim and sexy, living over the Channel. Edward hailed a taxi and muttered something in the local lingo. Apparently he’d got top marks for his French A-level and once stayed with family friends in the South of France. As a girl I’d always been lucky to get a week in Margate – not that I’m complaining. It takes a lot to beat a visit to the arcades, followed by a cone of chips and stick of rock.

We got in the car and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the strange man with sunglasses get into a waiting black BMW. Wow. Its windows were tinted. He must have been important.

‘Anglais, uh?’ said the taxi driver, as our car pulled away.

‘Yes,’ said Edward.

‘‘oliday?’

‘Non…’ I cleared my throat. ‘We are, ‘ow you zay… workeeeeng.’ I caught Edward’s eye and giggled, realising that just adding an accent to my English didn’t make me a linguist.

‘Nous travaillons,’ I said, racking my brain for the right words.

‘Ah… but still… Exciting, non… in Paris?’

‘Au naturel,’ I said, despite Edward thinking he knew what that meant. And, indeed, the car swerved, proving that the driver was impressed with my French.

‘Bit of a luxury this, isn’t it, a taxi?’ I said to Edward as the driver looked in his mirror to give me a weird look and turned up the radio.

‘Quite. After years of watching every penny, to save Applebridge Hall, my instinct would have been to take the underground.’

‘You mean Métro,’ I said airily. ‘Yes – but I’m glad we took the convenient option, instead of dragging our cases across the capital. It’s made our whole trip a lot easier.’

‘Our first trip together…’ Edward smiled fondly at me. ‘I wonder where we’ll go for our second? Imagine going on a cruise, like the girl whose flat we’re borrowing. Even though she’s working on the ship, it’s a chance second to none – a life on the waves…’ Edward stared dreamily out of the window.

It had been weird for him – the fallout from last year’s reality show. The world suddenly realising that his cousin Rupert – not him – was the rightful heir to Applebridge Hall. Once Rupert took over, after graduating later this year, Edward would be free of his aristocratic responsibilities, if he wanted, to carve out any career path.

I gripped his hand and gave it a squeeze, before gazing out of the window. Whoaa! This was more like it. Clearly we were entering the centre of the Paris. Just look at those cute cafés with people drinking beer and coffee outside, under the early rays of spring sun. And those shop windows had gilt-edged windows… Glamour at last! Plus an old man just cycled past wearing a beret!

Mind you, he’d have been better off wearing a sturdy helmet. My eyes widened as cars weaved randomly in between lanes, hooting and winding down their windows to swear. Perhaps I’d need to head for the Champs-Elysées to experience French elegance at its best. And sure enough, we drove down that huge avenue eventually – not that I took in much detail, after the psychotic way our car had hurtled around the Arc de Triomphe a few times, seconds before.

‘I suspect we’re being taken on the sightseeing route,’ said Edward and glanced at the taxi meter before pulling out his travel guide. I held onto the door, heart racing as if I’d just done the scariest ride at Alton Towers. I must have been confused, cos I was sure I saw that black BMW hurtling around with us, as well.

Not long after, however, the streets narrowed and, able to focus once again, I saw Parisian life up close. Away from the busy boulevards, people walked at a slower pace. They talked on their phones or, carrying a newspaper, stopped to chat with café owners. The most adorable balconies with plant pots fronted white-washed flats above shops, shutters either side of the windows. I sent Abbey a quick text to let her know how cute the city was.

‘Are you going to miss Applebridge Hall? And your dad? It’s ages since you’ve been away, what with the financial stresses,’ I said.

Edward chuckled. ‘Father and I could probably do with a break from each other after all this time. But seriously? I feel happier leaving him behind, now that he enjoys the companionship of Lady Constance.’

I nodded. Theirs was a mega sweet romance, fuelled by a mutual love of birdwatching. ‘Shame she won’t be with him for Valentine’s Day.’

‘At least she’s only in Switzerland for a few days.’

‘True.’ Dear old Lady C – well into her seventies and still giving advice on running finishing schools. Having owned one for years, she’d become something of an expert in the field, plus appearing on Million Dollar Mansion had raised her profile. She’d been mega chuffed to be invited to a girls’ college in Zurich for three nights.

‘Almost there, now,’ said Edward, as we pulled into a busy street which was cobbled, full of pedestrians and increasingly narrow. How adorable! I’d have to take loads of photos later and upload them to my Facebook page, with the status “Wish you were here.”

‘We can walk from here.’ He paid the driver and we got out.

Towing our luggage, we eventually came to a tiny square where I did finally breathe in garlic – along with a whiff of seafood wafting out from a bottle-green painted bistro on the left called “La Perle”. Next to that was a gift shop with racks of postcards outside. Opposite was a butcher’s with a queue coming out of the door and a tiny supermarket. A van pulled up near the gift shop to unload fresh produce for a grocer’s further along. Edward pointed upwards, to the right.

‘Voilá!’ he murmured.

Wow – it couldn’t get better than this. Our home for the next month was bang on top of a patisserie – that’s a cake shop, to you and me – called… Ah, I could translate those words – the sign said “The Golden Croissant”. Roll on breakfasts of fresh swirly Danish pastries… And down the end of the avenue, along from there I could just see a red canopy over small tables – a bar!

‘Come on!’ I said and hurried towards the flat. Pulling my suitcase, I charged towards the cake shop and headed up a staircase on its right, whilst Edward nipped inside the Golden Croissant to get the key. Five minutes later, we were inside the flat and surveying our new home in silence. Talk about fab.

The small, functional kitchen and lounge were open plan, with a welcoming fireplace in the middle, near an ivory sofa and chairs. Underneath the glass coffee table lay a turquoise patterned rug, over oak-laminated floor. On the ornate black balconies, outside the windows, sat potted plants. There was a dinky bathroom and the cutest bedroom, with rustic bedcovers, a bowl of potpourri and a wash basin and jug. A beech table with four chairs just about fitted into the far corner, on the window side….

‘Our Parisian abode really is quite charming,’ said Edward as he took out a notebook from his pocket, to jot down some notes.

‘Look at you, ever the writer,’ I said and winked.

He nodded. ‘It’s just a few random thoughts of our taxi drive and the sights so far. If I’m lucky I’ll be able to squeeze a few weeks’ columns out of this trip and not just report on the commemorative First World War events.’

I opened the windows, by the balcony, to air the flat. The divine aroma of crème fillings, sugar and spice wafted up from the cake shop. I could get used to that.

Edward smiled. ‘Why don’t you pop out and buy some basics, for tea, from that little supermarket? By the time you get back I should have the heating and kettle on. Or if you like, I’ll get the food in and you can set up the flat.’

‘No it’s fine…’ Me shopping – that sounded perfect! Although Edward had become something of a fan of this pastime, since meeting me… Primark was his particular favourite. He couldn’t get over the choice, as over the years he’d made do with the services of a local tailor and occasional trips to a small men’s clothes shop in Applebridge.

‘I won’t be long…’ A lump came to my throat, just for one second. Edward was so caring and reliable, staying behind to set up a cosy little home for us. Perhaps I was mad to not immediately accept his proposal of marriage. I stepped up on tiptoe, and kissed him firmly on his lips. Tenderly he responded, sending a trickle of tingles down my spine.

Once outside, I headed towards the supermarket and, as I glanced ahead, I let out a gasp. The man in a black suit stood by a nearby tree. Of average height, he nevertheless stood out. His whole physique shouted discipline – with his clear skin and subtle gym-bunny shape.

Quick as a flash, he turned away and I shook myself. No. Don’t be paranoid. He must have been a different bloke to the one on the plane. Dark suits and sunglasses were all the rage nowadays.

I gazed around at a poor lady with matted hair and a threadbare scarf. She sat on the pavement, asking for change. I slid my rucksack off my back and delved in for my purse, before handing her some coins. Then I entered the supermarket, in my head practising the pronunciation for the French equivalent of “how much, please?”

At the back of the shop, I swung around an aisle, looking for milk and… Whoa! ... came face to face with that man again. Suddenly he reached for a packet of biscuits. The hairs on the back of my neck jumped to attention. Instinct told me that he was pretending to look busy. But why? Could he really have followed little old me, all the way from the airport?

Shopping forgotten, I made for the door, nevertheless telling myself my suspicions were… Well, my first thought was “bonkers” but since staying with Edward these last months, my vocabulary now included phrases my new aristocratic friends used. Occasionally I’d say something was “quite terrible” or “nonsensical” or “awfully idiotic”. So yes, my suspicions were quite nonsensical.

Who did I think the man was? A real-life version of the Men in Black agents, about to zap aliens? If we’d been in England, he could have worked for one of the countless TV companies who’d approached me during the last few months, to do other reality shows. Yet we were in Paris… I swallowed. No one knew me. I was letting my imagination work overtime.

Chest nevertheless pounding, I led him away from the direction of the flat and instinctively quickened my pace. After five minutes, I gazed over my shoulder, as the sunlight began to fade. Really? I mean, really? Had he just dodged behind a parked car?

No doubt about it, then. He was stalking me. Mouth dry, I took a sharp left into an avenue and ran as fast as I could in my heels. Yet footsteps still sounded behind me. I cut into an even smaller avenue. Shit (sorry Lady C, manners out the window at this point)… I stared at a dead end. My hands felt sticky and in slow motion, I swivelled around.

The black BMW from earlier pulled up. The door opened. Inside was the mysterious man. He climbed out and walked stealthily towards me.

About the author:

Samantha Tonge lives in Cheshire with her lovely family, and two cats who think they are dogs. When not writing, she spends her days cycling and willing cakes to rise. She has sold over 80 short stories to women’s magazines. Her bestselling debut novel, Doubting Abbey, came out in November 2013.

Blurb: A summer bestseller from the immensely popular Lindsey Kelk Tess Brookes was the girl with a plan. Now she's the girl with a choice. Should she stay in London and start her own advertising agency with her best friend and potential boyfriend Charlie? Or should she head to exciting Milan to pursue both a new career as a photographer and a new man, the enigmatic and elusive (and highly irritating) Nick? For the first time, Tess has to choose between the life she always dreamed of and a future she never imagined possible. With her heart and her head pulling her in different directions, Tess has to make a life-changing decision about What a Girl Wants.

Review: What a Gil Wants was one of my most expected books of the year. I love Lindsey Kelk's books, every one she publishes is even better that her last one and WAGW didn't disappoint at all. Lindsey is one of the best Chick Lit authors I have ever read. Her I Heart series is one of my favourite series and this new one is quickly becoming a favourite too.

Continuing where About A Girl ended, What A Girl Wants can easily be read as a standalone but I'd recommend reading About A Girl first (why reading only one when you can have double the fun reading two fab books?). Tess is the perfect heroine, clever and with a big heart but also a bit naive and lost. In this book though we discover a new Tess, ready to fight for what she wants and for what is fair.

But don't worry, our beloved Tess still manages to live the most crazy adventures, now in Milan, including an opera show, a vespa ride and a night in jail. This perfect summer read will make you laugh out loud for sure. Lindsey has a very unique style that always makes me giggle and smile like a toon.

If you have read About a Girl, you know about all the #TeamNick and #TeamCharlie. If not, basicly Tess has two candidates for her heart and it is kind of difficult to decide for one (although I was Team Nick from the begining!). But now I'd like to propose a #TeamKepipi, god how I love this man! He is the perfect spark for this amazing book.

What a Girl Wants is a Must Read, so don't miss it! Now a long wait till the third book of the series is out... (Christmas 2015) Why oh why do you, Lindsey, want to make us suffer? We want the book now!

Rating: 5 stars plus a little heart, meaning it has been one of my favourites so far!

13:29

Title: The Cuckoo's CallingAuthor: Robert GalbraithPublished: April 30th 2013 by Mulholland Books

After losing his leg to a land mine in Afghanistan, Cormoran Strike is barely scraping by as a private investigator. Strike is down to one client, and creditors are calling. He has also just broken up with his longtime girlfriend and is living in his office.

Then John Bristow walks through his door with an amazing story: His sister, the legendary supermodel Lula Landry, known to her friends as the Cuckoo, famously fell to her death a few months earlier. The police ruled it a suicide, but John refuses to believe that. The case plunges Strike into the world of multimillionaire beauties, rock-star boyfriends, and desperate designers, and it introduces him to every variety of pleasure, enticement, seduction, and delusion known to man.

You may think you know detectives, but you've never met one quite like Strike. You may think you know about the wealthy and famous, but you've never seen them under an investigation like this.

Introducing Cormoran Strike, this is the acclaimed first crime novel by J.K. Rowling, writing under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith.

Review: This book had been in my TBR list for a while but lately I was enjoying so much chick lit books that I didn't feel like reading a crime novel. But given that the second book of the series was published last month, I decided to get started with it. I mean the mind that created Harry Potter couldn't write rubish right?

It actually took my a while to get into the story, I wasn't sure if I liked Cormoran as a character but once he started uncovering little clues to the case, I started reading faster and I just couldn't stop reading. I also started to like Cormoran, the methodic detective with a difficult life but with the heart on the right place. I really enjoyed his relationship with Robin, how they grew into each other. She certainly is a very talented investigator!

And what can I say about the ending, it totally blew me away. I didn't expect it at all. This novel has made me rediscover my love for crime and I can't wait to read now The Silkworm and enjoy Cormoran and Robin's company again. I think that J.K. Rowling has a special way with words that makes her stories unique.

Rating:

14:57

Today I am very pleased to welcome the fantastic author Jenny Hale who is going to talk a bit about her latest book, Love Me for Me. Jenny, over to you now!

Why is Love Me for Me the perfect beach read?

In Love Me for Me, I thought it would be fun to take my favorite spot in Virginia and ask myself, “What if someone thought this was the very worst place to be? What would that be like?” With those questions, Libby Potter was born. Libby Potter has run away from White Stone, Virginia and moved to New York, leaving everything and everyONE behind. Until she’s forced to return. And that’s when I get to show you my favorite spot. So, why is Love Me for Me a perfect beach read? My answer is because I took my idea of beach perfection and weaved a story around that lovely place that I call home once a summer. In Love Me for Me, I can take you there too. (And it doesn’t hurt that you get to meet Pete Bennett, who I guarantee, will be your next Book Boyfriend!)

Blurb:

Sometimes you find perfect where you least expect it…

Libby Potter has just lost the perfect job, the perfect apartment and the perfect boyfriend. Moving back to the same home town that she couldn’t wait to escape when she was younger was

definitely not on her to-do list. Especially as it means running into the man whose heart she broke when she left.

Pete Bennett can still walk into a room and make Libby’s world stop with just the sound of his voice – even ten years on. Only now, she is the last person in the world that he wants to see.

As everyone else welcomes Libby home with open arms, she realizes she’s missed that special closeness that comes from lifelong friendship. And, as Libby tries to make amends with Pete, she begins to wonder whether she made the right choice in leaving all those years ago.

When an amazing career opportunity gives her the chance to leave again, Libby will have to decide what her version of perfect is… and where she really belongs.